


When the letters stopped

by I_hate_mages_No_you_dont



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Chantry critical, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Rite of Tranquility, Violence, kanders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 04:19:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9367676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont/pseuds/I_hate_mages_No_you_dont
Summary: Karl is about to answer Anders' letter, fixing a date for his escape, when everything goes wrong.(by kittenmage)





	1. Nothing more

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fanfic was my attempt to deal with Karl's canon fate.  
> Do not read, it might ruin your mood.
> 
> I am so sorry.
> 
> (Late second entry for Januanders Day 4: Anders and Karl)

The Gallows were silent that night. There was never much noise in the former prison. Apart from the clanking of metal armour and murmured talk in the big courtyard, most inhabitants of the Circle in Kirkwall spend their days without much talk. Yet on this particular day the silence seemed to be deeper. Potent with foreboding.

Karl shook his head. Was he starting to get superstitious now? In all his years, he had never been the type for speculations on paranormal things. Everything could either be explained by science or magic. And magic was just a form of advanced science.

Still. He couldn’t shake the feeling away that something was about to happen. The hair on his neck stood on end as he heard footsteps outside the library. Again, he asked himself why this affected him so much. There were always some people walking through the corridors, that didn’t mean anything. They probably wouldn’t even come into the library. Yet he hastily put Anders’ last letter away. He had meant to answer it tonight, but it seemed as if he needed to postpone that.

The heavy wooden door flung open and Knight-Commander Meredith herself entered the room. Flanked by two other Templars whose faces were hidden under their helmets.

“Is this the enchanter from Kinloch?”

She threw a quick glance at the fourth person that remained standing at the entrance. It was another mage. A younger one. What was his name again? Karl couldn’t remember. The young man fidgeted with his hands, his face directed towards the floor as he nodded.

Instantly Meredith turned towards Karl again. Who was increasingly confused by the situation. Had something happened in Kinloch that he wasn’t aware of? And why would it concern him? He hadn’t been there for years.

“You’ve been found guilty of conversing with a wanted apostate!”

Karl’s face and heart froze simultaneously. They wanted to get Anders.

“You betrayed the Circle and shared secret information with a known criminal!”

On a whim that was totally unlike him, he wanted to make up a big lie. Sneak out of the situation with something close enough to the truth to deflect suspicion but actually reveal nothing. That was at least what Anders would be able to do. But Anders was not here. And Karl praised the Maker that he was not present at that moment, but hidden somewhere in Darktown. Lost between the other refugees from Ferelden. And hopefully save. Because Karl would never willingly give Anders away. He’d rather die than betray him!

“I was unaware that personal letters are classified as passing secret information.”

There was no point in lying to the Knight-Commander. Karl knew. He had seen countless times what the woman did to those she as much as suspected of lying and having secrets from her. When he had first seen the angry red cuts of a whip on Anders’ body back in Ferelden, he couldn’t believe it. But the punishments in Kinloch Hold were nothing to the Gallows. Where even speaking out of tune towards a Templars could result in beating. Where “fraternisation” was absolutely forbidden and any kind of contact between mages eyed with the outmost suspicion.

“There can be no personal letter from a circle mage! You are under Chantry protection and supervision. Any letter towards an apostate is an act of violence against the trust of the Templars! You are a danger for yourself and others and therefore no longer suited to be an enchanter!”

Karl’s mouth went dry. What was she implying? Before he could ask or react in any way he felt his magic drain from him like blood from an open wound as the Templars’ Holy Smite hit him. The Force of it knocked the air out of his lungs and he staggered back a few steps.

“You are left with a last choice. Give up the correspondence and all the letters! Tell us where he’s hiding! Or we’ll retrieve the information from your body!”

The Templars stood on both sides of Karl, their hands firmly grasping his arms. He had nowhere to run. None to seek out for help. But he wouldn’t give away Anders. Not him… Not… Their usual words appeared in Karl’s thoughts, sprouted from nowhere in particular. So, if Karl had to choose his last words on Thedas, he felt a grim satisfaction in it being theirs. Anders’ and his. 

“Not ever!”

The dark frown on Meredith’s face turned even more sinister, her lip though, curled up into a grim smile.

“Take him!”

The mage in the door stood there shaking. His eyes no longer averted, he stared straight at Karl. He seemed afraid. No, terrified. There was silent movement of lips. Mouthing “I’m sorry”. And despite the void of fear inside himself, Karl offered a weak smile. There was no need to hate the young man. He had acted according to Templar rules. Outing a traitor. Karl wasn’t angry. He pitied the other man.

His pity crumbled and crashed only a few steps later, turning into worry and dread when the maidservant Karl and Anders had entrusted with their letters came running down the corridor. One half of her face marred by a dark red bruise.

“NO! Don’t take him! Please!!” Another Templar appeared behind her, holding her back. Yet she struggled against the tight grip. “Knight-Commander I beg you!”

“You’ve been the treacherous servant who made this betrayal possible!”

A firm blow hit the girl in her chest and she sunk down against the Templar, tears falling from her eyes. Her voice was just a weak sob. “Please, spare him!”

“Tell us of the hiding place of the apostate! Save yourself. Tell me where he’s hiding!”

A vein twitched on Meredith’s forehead, her voice rising to a shrill and cold yell.

Instead of an answer the girl just violently shook her head. “I’m sorry, Karl… I’m so sorry… They saw me with the letter… they…”

Another punch hit her, this time in the face. Blood spurt from the newly induced wound. Anders could have easily healed that. Yet, luckily Anders wasn’t here. Karl didn’t want to imagine what would happen to him, if Meredith and the Templars found him.

“Enough!”, bellowed Meredith! “Get her away.”

The Templar dragged the bleeding, begging girl down the corridor she had come from. Her pleading eyes were directed at Karl until they vanished. Then Karl felt himself raised upwards, hoisted over a Templar’s shoulder. Another Holy Smite hit him, adding to the other, his mind got dizzy, making it hard to concentrate on the way. What he registered was that they weren’t taking him to the courtyard. So, he was going to be executed in secrecy?

The corridor ended and opened into a winding staircase, barely lit by a few torches. And the Templar that was carrying him followed Meredith down. Ever downwards they went for what felt like an eternity. This was definitely not the courtyard of the gallows. If Karl was correct in his orientation and he couldn’t tell because his mind was swimming on the verge of consciousness, they were taking him to the old Harrowing chamber. The one that should be out of use. That had been out of use for some decades. Had they installed a new torture chamber there under Meredith’s rule? Where they trying to force the information from him? Meredith had threatened to retrieve the information from Karl’s body. But what would they find on his lifeless form other than his robes. The last letter from Anders securely hidden in the desk Karl had occupied. Hidden in an invisible crack in the wood. What did they want to retrieve from his body?

That was when realization hit Karl. It hit like a Holy Smite, just with a lot more force and less numbing. Instead Karl’s senses were suddenly alert, his heart racing, his mind spinning with activity.

They were going to make him tranquil.

‘But that’s illegal’ his mind screamed in terror, his lips too dry to be of any use. 

In front of them he could hear a door being pushed open. And then he was slumped down in the centre of a small round hall. There wasn’t even a second in which Karl could adjust to his surroundings when the Templars hoisted him up again, grabbing his arms and tying them behind his back around a pole that marked the centre of the room.

“You’ve been found guilty of treason, attempted escape from the protection of the Circle and cooperation with a dangerous apostate. Therefore, you are deemed irresponsible of your rank and unfit for continuing your dangerous ways. Your magic will be removed by order of the Chantry, for the benefit and safety of all!”

Everything happened so fast, Karl couldn’t even begin to understand what Meredith was saying. He was deemed dangerous. A harrowed mage, by Chantry law, was never to be put to the Rite of Tranquillity. Never! Not even known maleficars had to face this dreadful fate! Why was correspondence with Anders seen as so dangerous? Why did they want to get rid of him so badly? Why was one apostate such a huge threat to the Templars of Kirkwall?

One look into Meredith’s eyes, who had stepped closer, told him all the answers he needed to have.

There was no other reason than her. SHE saw the apostate as a threat. SHE had been the one to regulate stronger restrictions and harder punishments in Kirkwall. SHE saw Tranquillity as the solution for even the tiniest flicker of disobedience in a mage. And apparently either the Grand Cleric Elthina shared her views. Or what was even worse in Karl’s opinion, she didn’t care what Meredith did.

“Karl Thekla! Your sentence is Tranquillity.”

Karl saw the bright red glow of the heated iron out of the corner of his eyes.

They were really doing this. This wasn’t just a threat to make him talk. They would take everything away from him, that was him.

His feelings. His memories of things he liked or disliked would be warped into bland nothingness. The meaning behind it forgotten. The memories of people that he held dear, his family that he had never seen again since the Templars discovered that he was a mage. The other mages in Kinloch Hold that had been his friends or teachers. The few friends he had found here in Kirkwall. Anders.

Anders.

They did this, because they wanted to get to Anders. They wanted to get to the one person he had loved and never ceased to love despite the distance. And now Anders had been so close. So close. Only few days before they had wanted to meet. Before Karl would have tried to escape. To be with this foolish, reckless man with the warm eyes, ironic smile and maybe too tender heart.

Karl would forget these feelings. They’d become facts to be stashed away like an inventory. An inventory of Karl’s former self. Its meaning lost. His magic lost. Leaving only the body behind.

The glow of the brand came closer. Meredith’s satisfied smile grew wider. And Karl, for the last time, felt magic gently tuck on his consciousness. The Smite was wearing off. If he could focus enough he could escape.

And would probably get captured again… No, he wouldn’t lose himself and the last bit of dignity he had.

Instead, he could lose something else. A spell of that kind was dangerous, but what damage could be done to a man who was about to die. Die a death that was worse than death.

Karl focused all his concentration on his memories of Anders. His escapes. His hiding places. His stories. Names of Anders’ friends. Hidden spots, where Karl had stashed away Anders’ letters. He forced everything that related to Anders and could be used against him into a corner of his self that had the closest connection to the Fade. His dreams. Karl wasn’t sure if this would cut them off from Meredith’s reach, he never studied the rite of Tranquillity as thoroughly. But it was worth trying. Worth using his last magic for. He mentally summoned a barrier, trying to close off everything that could give Anders away, praying it would disappear alongside his connection to the Fade, when Karl felt the hot searing burn of the iron on his forehead.

And he screamed.

Words were spoken around him. Words etched in lyrium-induced Templar magic.

Karl’s head exploded. Too much emotion. Too much pain. Too much everything.

Then there was silence.

In the hall.

And in Karl’s mind.

Silence.

And nothing more.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the other end of Kirkwall

Darktown.

The lantern to the makeshift clinic was still lit. The room was buzzing with people. Some came with wounds that got infected due to the bad living conditions in the poorest part of Kirkwall. Others had caught a very resilient cold that homemade remedies failed to cure. No matter what ailment. Sooner or later everyone found their way to the small clinic in Darktown. To the apostate healer. Rumour had it he was once a Grey Warden.

To the people of Darktown he simply was “the healer”. Apostate or not. Grey Warden or not. To them it made no difference. In the short time he had been in Kirkwall, he had saved more lives than could be counted. There was no family in Darktown that had not requested his aid at least once. And most in Lowtown knew of him, too. Sometimes even the elves from the Alienage came to seek him out. Though only when there really was no other way but to trust a shem.

The healer, Anders, made no difference in his patients. Human, dwarf, or elf. Everyone who came to his clinic got whatever help he could offer.

This particular night was especially tiresome. He had been healing from dawn way past the hour of the setting sun. The clinic’s windows, if the small slits in the wall facing the sea could be described as that, were opened wide. The cold night air streamed into the room. For a few gratifying breathes the stench of Darktown was gone completely. Anders deeply inhaled the salty breeze. It cleared his mind and washed away a little of his fatigue.

“Right! Who’s next?”, he asked and a family with a little boy approached him. The child was pale, far too pale. He gestured for him to sit down on one of the cots and bend down to examine him. Asking him and the parents a bunch of questions about his symptoms.

Anders healed on and on until there were no more people waiting. No one who needed his skills. At least for today. He went outside to put out the lantern.

“Good night, Healer!” A woman walked by, her smile tired but honest. Anders replied the same fashion.

“Good night.”

When he returned to his little corner of the clinic, he mused how long it would take ere he would receive an answer from Karl. His letter was overdue. If only by a day, but it was unlike him to send a late reply. Maybe he was busy preparing everything to leave the Kirkwall circle for good.

The Gallows.

Anders spat on the name. The former slave fortress was still nothing more but a prison.

But Karl wouldn’t have to suffer there any longer. If the answer wasn’t here by the next day, Anders would send a note. To meet up at the Chantry.

Anders would finally get Karl back! A small smile appeared on his face. He would see Karl again! And this time, he would set him free!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this!  
> I am sorry if this was sad and terrible and absolutely rude.  
> I really am...


End file.
